His Fairytale Ending
by PhoenixSong2013
Summary: The moments in Harry's life when he felt as if everything was a fairytale. Kisses with unconscious girls, hidden cuddling in the Common Room, her arms around him... The moments in his life when Hermione made him feel as if everyone had their own fairytale ending. Drabbles collection.
1. Sleeping Beauty

_Hermione stepped out of the library, trying to keep the worry from her features as she thanked Madame Pince for the use of the Restricted Section. The librarian spared her a nod, looking up from reprimanding the Weasley twins. It was quite confusing as to why they weren't getting ready for the upcoming Quidditch match. "I have to warn Harry," she said softly, turning a corner._

_Her head smacked into something hard and she stumbled backwards. The fifth year Prefect Penelope Clearwater smiled down at her, making to move past her. "Penelope?" her voice was a high squeak. "Er... well, I've figured out what the monster in the Chamber of Secrets is." Penelope's eyes widened and she pulled Hermione by the hand down the corridor._

_"Come on, Hermione," said Penelope quickly. "What is it? How do we tell the teachers?" She seemed to collect herself and snapped into prefect-mode, standing straight and forgetting her original panic._

_Hermione shook her head, increasing her pace to keep up with Penelope. "It's a Basilisk. Harry can speak Parseltongue, and he's been hearing voices in the walls for weeks. The Basilisk is a snake. And the roosters by Hagrid's cabin were killed, right?" Penelope nodded. "The book says 'A rooster's cry is fatal to it'."_

_Penelope nodded, pulling out a mirror. At Hermione's confused look - something which didn't happen very often -, she said, "This way we won't be killed if we happen to come across it. We can look around corners to see if it's there. I'm not sure what happens if you don't look it in the eye but through a mirror, though." Hermione agreed, taking the mirror and pushing it around the corner._

_She and Penelope rested their eyes on the mirror, and they continued down four corridors until they saw Professor McGonagall in the mirror. However, Hermione's eyes were drawn to the huge yellow ones from an inconspicuous hole in the wall just a few meets away._

_And then the world went black around her._

* * *

Harry stepped onto the Quidditch pitch, expecting to see the stands full of roaring students, holding banners and flags. But the Gryffindor team was met with a field full of running feet, each student attempting to reach their dorms before something else happened. At first they were confused, but, in his mind, Harry managed to piece together the puzzle.

Professor McGonagall met them in front of the entrance, a grave grimace on her face. "The match has been cancelled. There's been another attack. Mr Potter, come with me - the rest of you, go back to your dormitories." She offered Wood a pat on the shoulder before turning on her heel, leaving the grumbling Gryffindor team. The Boy-Who-Lived hurried after her, imagining the worst.

Ron met them as they reached the castle steps, his red hair a mess. It was obvious he had been jostled about but McGonagall did neither falter in her stride nor protest to him joining their small, unusual group. "What's going on?" he whispered to Harry, to which Harry did nothing but shrug, swallowing hard.

"This may come as a shock," said McGonagall, stopping them in front of the Hospital Wing's doors a few minutes later. They were on the fourth floor and it had taken them a while to push through the crowds bustling up the staircases. The Transfiguration Professor pushed open the Hospital Wing doors and let Harry and Ron past her inside.

His heart dropped when he pushed his way past Madame Pomfrey and behind the curtains. Harry's stomach clenched when he spotted the two nearest occupied beds. The first bed was occupied by Penelope Clearwater, a fifth year prefect he had never really known or met before. "Hermione," he heard Ron mutter, but he was oblivious to much else than his bushy-haired friend as he harried over to her side. "What happened?" Harry swallowed, dreading the answer.

"They were found with this," said Pomfrey quietly, holding up a mirror. "Do you recognise it? From anything?" Ron shook his head, sitting on one side of Hermione, Harry on the other.

The last Potter reached out for her hand, trying to disguise the hopelessness he felt as worry. Of course Harry was worried for her, but without his beautiful friend they could not do anything to save the school. _Without here, we're nothing._

* * *

It was late at night, and Harry had situated himself by Hermione's side. The Invisibility Cloak was drawn over his head, not daring to turn on the lights. He didn't need to, however; Madame Pomfrey slept in her office - which was surrounded by wards that blocked out light outside the room - and saw no need to turn out the lights on petrified students.

In the stories, mused Harry sadly as he held Hermione's hand tightly in his, the beautiful girl would wake when she was kissed. He hadn't heard many fairytales as a child, but one night before he was admitted to Hogwarts, he had overheard his Aunt Petunia reading Dudley his favourite fairytale - Sleeping Beauty. Harry had found it stupid when he was a child, and had spent many minutes snickering outside his door. But the way his Aunt had read it was heart-wrenching, at least the way his six-year-old mind had thought it to be.

But the idea was absurd. It could be considered assault to kiss a sleeping, defenceless girl. However, he meant no harm by it, and some part of him egged him on. Kissing his best friend would be ridiculous, he berated himself. "No way," he murmured, but part of him _wanted_ to do it. And that was what scared him.

"Get a grip, Harry," he growled to himself, but the matter was with him whether or not he wanted it. "Stop thinking about it like that."

Several times he thought he heard Hermione stir, but he knew that she wouldn't wake or really stir until the mandrakes were grown and ready for use. Harry found the thought saddening and something settled in his gut, but when he thought of those stupid fairytales he found it more tempting to lean down and kiss his best friend's frozen lips.

Harry internally fought against his instincts, knowing if he ever kissed her she'd know. _But maybe she can't feel anything, _a snide, cruel voice told him. _Just do it, you know you want to._

Every time he tried to fight it, the thought became more and more real and enticing to him that he knew he would give up in the end. He caved in a few moments later.

His head descended towards hers slowly but surely, and his forehead touched hers so lightly it almost wasn't there. Harry's lips lightly touched hers, but he pressed harder until he swore he heard her heart beat through her lips. "I'm sorry!" he whispered, pulling back like she had stung him. He half-hoped her cinnamon brown eyes would flutter and open and she would tell him she accepted, but he knew she wouldn't do that until she was cured.

He leapt up as if his seat had burned him and scurried from the Hospital Wing, his face burning. _She'll never know..._


	2. Cinderella

"I'm not talking about it," Harry growled out through his teeth. Hermione huffed as he turned on his heel and marched off down the corridor. "Not to you!" He threw over his shoulder when she followed him. Her footsteps stopped and for a moment he felt triumphant, but then all he felt was guilt. Harry turned to watch her, finding her hazel eyes, filled with hurt and disbelief, met his eyes and all he wanted to do was apologise. But he continued striding down the corridor, through the Fat Lady's portrait - she was quite miffed at him for spitting in her face - and up to his dorm.

Hermione's hurt brown eyes filled his vision as he collapsed, face down, on his bed. He blinked back tears, holding sobs down. Her question had been harmless, begging him to talk about his childhood - and he had snapped and insulted her to her face, leaving her stranded in the sea of buzzing students as he stormed away. It wasn't her fault he had barely spoken about what had gone on; no, he had only spat that he'd have had a happier childhood with his parents rather than with them.

He recalled the time he had climbed onto the Hogwarts Express, feeling so elated because he finally got away from what had ruined his younger years. Harry would have a fresh start with people just like him, knowing he would not be bullied or pushed around until the next summer. And when Hermione had smiled at him as she sat across from him, so warm and true, Harry had known she would be a loyal, kind girl to have around. But Ron's comments had filled his brain after he had left, and Harry, so easily trusting in his first friend, had believed him.

Guilt was all he knew then. Harry blinked back the tears threatening to overwhelm him, ready to close his eyes and surrender to fitful sleep...

"Harry?" called Hermione's worried voice from outside the door, sounding just as guilty as he felt. His eyes snapped open and he sat up. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

The Boy-Who-Lived turned and slumped back on his bed, running his hands over his face. Harry's voice came out hesitant, nervous. "Yeah," he replied, sounding fed-up, exhausted, reluctant, even to his own ears. He cleared his throat as the door opened, Hermione's worried face poking around the door. Harry gave her a weary smile. "Come on in, 'Mione."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at hearing her familiar nickname. After their encounter with the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, the pair had grown closer as he sat at her bedside. She had hesitantly asked how he had felt after Sirius' death, and he had replied truthfully. "I've been better, 'Mione," he had said, and she had shot him a sympathetic smile and grabbed his hand. The gesture had felt sincere, loving, warm... something he had needed right after their traumatic experience.

"I'm sorry," they spoke in unison as she perched herself hesitantly on his bed. They laughed it off, feeling more comfortable with each other. "I shouldn't have brought it up," said Hermione quietly, sniffling slightly, "I knew it was a sensitive subject for you and I know it wasn't the happiest childhood you had and... well, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked asked you about it if you weren't ready. Especially after Dumbledore..." Hermione winced, looking down at her feet.

Harry shook his head in disbelief, raising his hand to her chin and raising her head, locking her cinnamon eyes with his emerald ones. "I'm the only one who should be sorry, 'Mione. I snapped at you because you asked one innocent little question," he spotted her mouth opening in protest and waved his hands, placing a finger over her lips, "and all I ask is that you'll forgive me. I'm sixteen - almost of age, Hermione! - I should be able to talk about it now. I'm not going back there, much... the Dursley's leave me alone because I haven't told them Sirius is dead yet."

The bushy-haired girl sighed and lay down beside him, slumping in his arms. "You know I love you, right?" she placed a kiss on his forehead, grinning up at him. He grinned down at her in return, ruffling her untameable curls.

"You're my angel, 'Mione," he whispered to his best friend, letting her curl in his arms. Harry remembered the days she had been by his side - those days when she fought by him and the times when she made him feel better than anybody else could. The truth was, the Boy-Who-Lived had been harbouring his own feelings for Hermione. "An-gel," he stressed when she raised her eyebrows, making her giggle.

Hermione lay her head on his chest, listening to him breathe. "Love you too," he sighed, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck.

"Harry," said Hermione slowly, not able to hide the curiosity in her tone, "you never did answer my question."

She felt him sigh and slump in defeat. Looking up, Hermione took in the exhausted, pained look in his emerald eyes and the way his messy hair looked more untidy than usual. "My bedroom, for eleven years, was the cupboard under the stairs. My cousin, Dudley, used me as his punching bag. Chasing me and bullying me around the house and in school was his favourite sport. My Uncle Vernon hated me and bought Dudley everything and me nothing. They hated magic, and my Aunt Petunia was the worst. She expected me to do the cooking, the dishes, the cleaning, the lawn-mowing, the polishing... the house was only tidy because I cleaned it. Occasionally Uncle Vernon would beat me or Aunt Petunia would whack me 'round the head with a frying pan. But that was the worst it got."

Hermione's eyes were wide, angry, and confused. "You didn't tell anyone?"

"There was a very nice teacher I had in primary school," he shrugged, "and she spotted the bruises. She meant to do something, but because I was a wizard and healed much faster, by the time we had a chance to do something about it the bruises had faded and I was just a skinny, scared kid with a weird scar on his forehead. They had no way to prove I was being mistreated and the Dursley's complained about her to the school and she was transferred. I wanted to transfer, too, because I had no friends and she was the closest thing I ever got to a mother. But I was stuck with them."

The bookworm stood up, drawing her wand and stormed out of the door. "Hermione!" he shouted after her as she stomped down the stairs. "Hermione! Where are you going? Hermione!" By the time he was in the common room she was already by the Weasley twins, who had stopped her. She growled out a snapped response to their question and whirled around to face Harry, who reached down and pulled her into a hug. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"I can't bloody believe it!" she shouted, taking a step back and eyeing him up and down. "When you got on the Hogwarts Express you looked like you hadn't had a good meal in weeks and I didn't do anything! I put it all down as a coincidence because you were small! I could have lifted you off your feet when you were eleven, Harry James Potter! You never felt it a good time to bring up that you were bloody abused for the past fifteen years? No! You kept it to yourself, where no one could help you or sort things out! Do you know how much that shows, Harry? Do you not trust me? When Ron told me about the bars on your windows and the locks on your door I didn't believe him!" She was crying now, tears streaming down her cheeks. The common room was silent, every eye fixed on the pair. The air around Hermione crackled with angered energy. "I should have done something, Harry! You don't deserve to be pushed around like that!

"Those foul people!" she shrieked, turning around towards the portrait hole and glaring at it. "If they ever stopped to think that you were human, too...! And Harry Potter, if you bring up that we're not entirely human I will personally silence you because you need some sense knocked into you if you let things like that happen! Your bedroom for eleven years of your bloody life was a freaking cupboard! Your Aunt Petunia whacked you around the head with a frying pan! You were their personal slave and they made you clean, they made you cook, they made you tidy up after them because you were magical and your parents were, too! They're afraid of you, Harry, so they pushed you around! Dudley got all those expensive gifts and presents and what did you get for being a far better person? You got freaking abuse!" He winced when every head turned to him, disbelief written in your eyes. "If you say 'calm down' ever again to me, Harry James Potter, I will kill them myself!"

Harry moved forward, taking the shaking, sobbing witch in his arms and cradling her tightly. Fred and George stood up and moved forward, the only ones in the common room that moved. "Is it true Harry?" The Boy-Who-Lived, knowing that Hermione would kill him if he spoke, nodded and pulled Hermione closer. George noted the slight warning in his eyes and nodded, pulling Fred back to his seat.

"What?!" snapped Ron from his seat not far away, making every head in the common room snap down and constant whispering start.

"I'm sorry, Harry," sobbed Hermione, looking up at him with beautiful, red-rimmed brown eyes. Harry's head bent down and his lips met hers, moving in perfect sync. She responded almost immediately, kissing him back and forcing a chuckle from his lips that sent vibrations down her throat. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her toes to reach him better as her hands wound through his hair, mussing it up. Harry's arms found themselves bracing her hips, pressing her to his chest and he found himself stopping him from lifting her into his arms, his hands rubbing circles in her back. Her lips tasted of salty tears but he didn't care, instead choosing to kiss her more firmly, his lips drowning the tears in themselves.

"No problem," he breathed, setting her back on her feet and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. She beamed up at him and he knew he had made the right choice.


	3. The Wizard of Oz

Hermione watched the figure in Hagrid's arms, her gaze not moving from the messy, black hair on the person's head. She blinked back tears, looking away from those emerald eyes that would never open again and into the intense, red-eyed stare his killer was fixing her with. Hatred, loathing, coursed through her veins as she returned his glare, her hand moving towards her wand. She might have lost her love, but she had not lost her nerve.

"You!" shrieked Hermione, breaking out of George's grip and in front of McGonagall, who grabbed the back of her jacket. Voldemort laughed cruelly, his eyes flickering over her body. Bellatrix cackled - normally this would have reminded her of Malfoy Manor, but she refused to acknowledge the crazy woman's taunting - and waved her wand. Ropes sprang out of them but Hermione just walked forward, her gaze set on Voldemort. His followers began cursing her, every hex, spell, or curse imaginable spouting from their disgusting lips. But the Brightest Witch of Her Age just deflected them all, not even bothering to move her gaze from the red-eyed stare of her boyfriend's killer. "You killed him." She growled it out. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. A statement that seemed to frighten even her own side.

Voldemort smiled twistedly, his wand in hand as he coldly stared at the petite witch in front of him. "I did? Oh, yes, I did." Hermione growled, her hand shaking as she pointed her wand between his eyes. "And what are you going to do about it, Mudblood?"

It was Hermione who laughed this time. "You couldn't have thought up a better insult? Mudblood? I got over that the night that word was carved into my forearm. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself, you know. I used to hate that word, even fear the mention of it, but now that's all it is - a word. And soon that's all your name will be. Voldemort will only be a word, a thing of the past. No longer feared. Because when you killed Harry," she swallowed, her eyes not moving from his, "you killed a part of yourself. You made seven Horcruxes, Tom! Seven, not six!" The majority of the crowd behind her gasped collectively, but this didn't sway her determination, "That night in Godric's Hollow, a piece of your soul drifted from what was left! And it nestled itself in the only living thing in the room... Harry Potter was a Horcrux you unknowingly made. And now you're a mortal man, Voldemort, we can kill you just as easily as you could us. We are equals."

"We are not equals!" squealed Bellatrix, her wand trained on the back of Hermione's head. "You are Mudblood scum! We are pure of blood!"

Hermione laughed. It was a cold, empty sound. "No you're not, are you, Tom? There is one thing you seem to have forgotten. You're a half-blood yourself! You walk around like you're better than everyone else, putting up the masquerade until you seem to think you are what others believe you are. Your mother was a Gaunt, yes, but did you know your father was a muggle?"

She heard the shocked gasps of his followers, the indignant yell from Bellatrix, the collective outraged roars from the Light. But she didn't care, just ploughed on. "Did you know that every life you have taken might have led others to believe you were powerful? You're not powerful, you just continue to hide behind others while your reputation precedes you! You don't deserve the title you have! You are not the darkest wizard the world has ever seen!" She felt the tears come sliding relentlessly down her cheeks and the anger radiate from the supposed Dark Lord, but she didn't care whether she lived or died. Hermione had loved him, but now he was gone. That was all that mattered.

"Did you care that every life you have taken has slowly ripped your soul to pieces? Did you care that every innocent man, woman, and child you have mercilessly slaughtered might have been a better person than you have ever been? Di you care at all? No, you didn't!" she was screaming now and her voice was raw, but nothing mattered more than ending the reign of terror the Dark Lord had brought along. "But guess what? I don't care either! I don't care whether I live or die now! All that matters to me more than forcing you down on your knees and watching the light leave your eyes! Because that's what you have done to so many others! Fred! Remus! Tonks! Colin Creevey! Lily and James Potter! You deserve it because of what you have done! What about Lily and James Potter, the young, powerful people who were more human than you've ever been? The young life that belonged to Colin Creevey, a small boy who stood up for what he believed in and died a too early death! Tonks! She was a woman who wasn't afraid to be who she was! She was a woman who never backed down from a fight, who knew what was wrong and what was right! She was a beautiful, loving woman who never deserved to die! And Remus! A loving, tender man who held his ground even after his wife was killed in front of him! Who was left to face the unknown alone when his best friends were innocently convicted, was killed, or betrayed him! Who went through hell every month because he was only half-human! But he was more a man that you are! He didn't deserve any of this! Fred!" she shrieked, marching forward to slap Rookwood around the face. "He was so alive, so full of laughter and love and music! He was someone who knew what he felt and how to express it! So caring and kind and beautiful... None of those people deserved to die... Harry didn't deserve to die... You do!"

And then George and Percy were on either side of her, Ron flanking her from behind. McGonagall, Neville, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team stood a little way off, glaring the Death Eaters down. "And now you have reached your end," growled George, menacing closer to Voldemort. "For Fred!"

"For Remus and Tonks!" shrieked Angelina Johnson, firing a curse that sent Bellatrix flying into the same wall that had killed Fred.

"For Colin!" shouted Dennis Creevey, striking Dolohov as he attempted to run. He slumped to the ground, dead.

Ron was the next to speak up, shouting, "For Lily and James Potter!" He let off a curse that hit Voldemort between the eyes, watching the Dark Lord writhe in pain on the ground.

"You have met your end," repeated Hermione, turning her wand on Voldemort. The Dark Lord stopped writhing, his eyes still scrunched up against the pain, and suddenly, as if it happened so easily, collapsed, his body slumping. His hate-filled eyes were empty, devoid of all emotion. Cheers erupted from every corner of the battlefield, screams of outrage bending them from the centre.

But Hermione didn't care. She rushed over to Hagrid, pulling the man out of his arms and into hers. Hermione fell back on her haunches, cradling him in her arms. The tears fell freely down her cheeks, her hands running through the messy black hair of her beloved. "I'm sorry, Harry," she sobbed, holding him close. "I am so, so sorry. I wish I could have done something... anything..."

A cackle of laughter brought her eyes to a familiar, mad face. But she swallowed the curse from her throat, letting the bright green light fill her vision.

And then the world went black around her.

* * *

She opened her eyes, blinking away the bright light that had replaced the green one. Instead of coming face-to-face with Bellatrix Lestrange, however, she was looking into a pair of familiar bright emerald eyes. "Harry," she breathed, sitting up so quickly it could have been magic. She threw her arms around his neck, feeling the tears fall from her eyes. "Am I dead, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed, running a hand through her hair and meeting her amber eyes with his bright green ones. "We're dead. But I have you again... I was so worried something would happen to you."

Hermione placed her lips on his, cutting him off as she wound her hands through his hair. He responded immediately, his hands moving to her waist to hold her to his chest tightly, his eyes closing as he cupped her cheek with one hand. "I love you," she breathed against his lips, sending a shiver through Harry's throat.

He laughed, pulling back and meeting her eyes. "I love you, too." He swallowed, and both stayed there for a moment, not breaking their connection as they looked into each other's eyes. "There are a few people I want you to meet, My Own. Mum and Dad, Sirius and Eve, Remus and Tonks... they're all here."

"You want me to meet your parents?" she gasped, blinking dazedly up at him. Then Hermione laughed. "I thought I'd never see the day when I walked up to you and you told me you wanted me to meet your dead parents, Harry - I thought it'd be you meeting mine first!" Harry laughed, nodding. "Do you think they'll like me?" she continued anxiously.

Harry grinned, caressing her cheek. "They'll love you, love. I do."

"Feeling the love, Harry," said Hermione, giving him a peck on the cheek and standing, pulling him up from his seat. "Now - where are they and how do I say hello?"

Her boyfriend patted her head, "You walk up to them, say hello and introduce yourself as my girlfriend." He spoke as though he was teaching a five-year-old child, and she whacked him upside the head. "Are you sure you're OK with it, My Own?"

"Let's do this," hissed Hermione. She paused, "And there's one thing I'd like you to do." Harry nodded, looking grave. "Talk me out of it." He laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her out of the room.

They travelled down the hallway - the journey was far too quick in Hermione's opinion - and through the door on the left. In the room were a group of people, laughing loudly with each other. Hermione recognised Tonks immediately - her bright pink hair wasn't easy to miss as she talked with a sandy-haired twenty-year-old - and made a beeline for her.

"Tonks!" she squealed, tackling the older witch and flattening them both against the sofa. Tonks squealed and hugged her tightly, her hair turning a bubblegum blue as she embraced the younger witch.

Tonks frowned at her. "Hermione Jean Granger, why the hell are you even here?" she asked incredulously. Hermione fidgeted, her eyes locking with Harry's. He was shaking with silent laughter as Tonks glared at the younger witch. "You are in so much trouble, missy," Tonks tapped her nose and the Brightest Witch of her age protested, whacking the finger away.

The sandy-haired man grinned wolfishly at Hermione, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Hello, Hermione," said Remus, squeezing her. Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes.

"You evil, evil man!" she shrieked, tackling him in a hug. "You left your son, you git!" She was laughing now, messing up his hair. "Why did you die?" she whinged, plopping back on her haunches.

Merry laughter filled the room as a redheaded woman with emerald eyes beamed at Hermione, offering her hand. "Lily Potter," she said, smiling.

Hermione froze, looking up at the familiar eyes with slight hesitance. "Hermione Granger," she replied, taking the hand and shaking it slowly. Suddenly she burst out laughing, clutching her sides as she giggled. "I - I'm sorry! I j-just never thought I-I'd be introducing m-myself to y-you!" She shrieked with laughter, coughing harder and harder as she rolled on the ground. And then she stopped, looking up at the confused woman. "Sorry," breathed Hermione, standing up and swallowing her hiccups. "That was just so - so weird! I never really thought about introducing myself to Harry's parents because - because, well, you died."

Harry put his hands on her shoulders, standing behind her and resting her chin on her brown curls. "Neither did I," he said, grinning at his mother.

And then a black-haired man that looked exactly like Harry was behind Lily, putting himself mockingly in the same position. "James Potter," he grinned at her as Hermione gawked at him.

"But - but... you look just like him!" she shouted, her eyes swivelling between them. She backed out of Harry's grip, and then she was sitting in someone's lap.

"Hey, Granger," Sirius ruffled her hair, looking considerably less gaunt than when she had last seen him. He was smiling at her happily as she blinked at him. And then she squealed and tackled him in a hug.

Hermione slapped him. "That was very stupid, Sirius Black," she said stubbornly. "Very stupid, indeed."

"But we wouldn't be here if we weren't stupid." said Harry, grinning as he flopped beside them and pulled Hermione into his lap. "Like family."

Lily and James perched themselves on the coffee table as Remus and Tonks sat on the floor by their feet. "Family," breathed Hermione, smiling shakily around at everyone. "I like it."

"Family," repeated the room at large, grinning at each other.


	4. Snow White

Hermione reached for his hand, but he ripped it from her grip and stalked away from her, back into the tent. She sniffled and lay back against the leaves, trying not to let the tears fall and begging herself not to come out as the weak little girl in this.

The pair had crashed into the tent that night after escaping Godric's Hollow. Harry had been shaking and she had been so scared, so terrified, that she broke her wand in two – this was what he was angered at. "What use is one bloody wand?" he had roared in her face, making her blink back tears and try not to cry as she reached for his hand. But he had stalked off, leaving her alone in the middle of the wilderness.

"Oh Merlin," she whimpered, reaching up and covering her eyes as the tears pooled once more. She had managed to heal him with a bit of dittany, but the Horcrux had been stuck to his chest and, even if she had wanted to wear that damned thing, neither had been able to get it off. Hermione knew he was only acting this way because of the Horcrux's snide voice in his head, but a large part of her wanted to curl up and cry because of it.

Harry had been the major factor in her life ever since she was eleven. She had tugged him through the twists and turns of escaping depression, she had pulled him out of his rants and held him while he cried, and she had – most of all – fallen in love with her best friend.

The wound he had just served her was, by far, the worst, in her opinion; for she even feared going back into the tent and sleeping, even if she had needed it for weeks. She hadn't slept in the past three weeks, but told nobody, for she feared that Harry would snap at her again.

She whimpered and rolled onto her side in the grass, feeling awful. Why had she broken that bloody wand?! Then they would be alright and wouldn't be in the middle of this drama! But she knew, deep down, that it was the shock of it telling her this, that she was the one who was wrong, because she loved him.

Because she loved him.

Hermione had sacrificed her goddamned parents for Merlin's sake! She had followed him through that trapdoor in first year because she was terrified that something would happen to him! She had run back from that library, knowing full well that she would be Petrified, to get that message to him!

She had flown a hippogriff to the tallest tower in the castle itself, helped a mass murderer escape with his innocent life, and then broken all the laws of time travel for him! She had walked right into the fray at the Quidditch Cup knowing she was in danger, all to save him from the Death Eaters! She had pulled him to the ground beside her because she feared his life in those woods! She had saved him from the Ministry of Magic by capturing Rita Skeeter!

She had climbed on top of that thestral knowing it was a trap! She had flown illegally to the Ministry and almost died there! She had held him that night when he found out that his godfather was gone! She had insisted that they go with him! She had faked jealousy to keep him safe!

She had let him drag them all over the country while she constantly tried to figure out what they were doing! She had watched Ron leave them in the tent! She had cried all night when he hadn't shown any emotion at all!

She had done so much for him, stayed loyal to him, why couldn't he see that she was all he needed?

Hermione curled on her side, burying her face in her knees and letting the cold, harsh winds rake over her body and through her hair. She sobbed as quietly as possible, not willing to let him know just how deeply he had hurt her, even if she really loved him.

Tears rolled relentlessly down her cheeks as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the storm. Rain pelted on her body, plastering her close to her sides and making her groan in pain and curl deeper inside herself. The thunder rolled in and she felt something dark loom over her, but she no longer cared for much. He had hurt her, her world had hurt her. And that hurt more than anything.

She didn't know how long she stayed there, but it only felt lie minutes until she was met with the lightning that struck a tree nearby.

"Hermione?" asked a familiar voice, and she looked wearily into a pair of regretful emerald eyes with tears still rolling down her cheeks. Harry collapsed on his knees beside her, holding out his arms to her, but she shook her head and just looked at him. "Oh God. 'Mione, it's been hours. Why didn't you come inside?" Hermione sighed and relented, letting him run his fingers through her hair.

He stared down at her in horror. Her usually warm, mischievous hazel eyes were cold and broken, and her wild and untamed hair with it's beautiful curls had flattened and been plastered to her head, lifeless. Her usually tanned skin was a pale, deathly white, and there were dark rings that hadn't been there before, prominently standing out against her skin. Her body looked small, frail, with her clothes plastered to it, and he realised just how much she had been hiding under her baggy clothes.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, pulling her upwards and throwing his arms around her. "Why did you hide this from me? I could've helped."

Hermione shook her head. "No, Harry, you couldn't have. You would have tried, God knows you would have tried, but you couldn't have helped. We can't find food, we can't find water, we can't find the Horcruxes…"

Harry looked at her sharply, looking for all he was worth like that scared eleven year old boy she had met on the train seven years ago. "You're leaving me!" he accused, standing up and turning his back on her.

She shook her head again, taking his hand and resting her head on his shoulder. "You need to know that I will never, ever, leave you, Harry. I have stood by you for seven years and I wouldn't stop now even if I wanted to. I love you," she said softly, finding her sneakers very interesting at that moment.

"Love?" asked Harry slowly, looking up at her slowly. "Love?"

"Yeah," she said quietly, flicking a piece of dirt off her jeans and examining the leaves beneath her. Her clothes clung to her small body and the rain hammered down on both of them, but neither cared.

Harry looked down at her and pulled her into his arms, burying his head in her hair and inhaling deeply. "Hermione, I've loved you every day for three years. It's about bloody time," he murmured, and she let out a small laugh before hugging him back, pressing a fierce kiss to the side of his head before burying her head in the crook of his neck.

By now they were both soaked to the skin, their clothes plastered to their bodies as they embraced in the rain.

Hermione reached up and threw her arms around his neck, bring his lips smashing down on hers with suck a force both almost fell over in the mud. But she knew she had done the right thing when his hands moved down to grip her waist and pull her closer still. Their bodies moulded together as their lips moved in sync over the other's, smiling slightly.

She closed her eyes, feeling him do the same and pressing him closer yet. Harry inhaled her sweet scent and sighed.

He was loved.

She was loved.

They were home.

* * *

_**I'm sorry if it's been too long, but lately - with adopting and posting - I've been so busy - as well as the exams coming up. I love you all and I hope you've all continued to love the story.**_

_**Thanks!**_

_**Love,**_

_**Marlene**_


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